


for the time after

by orro



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 21:59:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9259283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orro/pseuds/orro
Summary: Yuri is easy to spot amongst the crowd, still decked out in animal prints, though luckily it’s only his sweater today. He’s grown tall and for a moment they’re eye to eye. Then Yuri ceases to slouch and stands up properly and Otabek has to look up at him slightly. It’s a far cry from the stoic ten year old boy that imprinted himself into Otabek’s mind or the prideful fifteen year old teenager who made the pact of friendship with him.The lack of pictures makes sense. Yuri hasn’t wanted to document his inevitable growth.





	

**Author's Note:**

> thank you fiver for putting up with me as i wrote this massive thing. it turned out to be three times longer than expected. please enjoy your many otayuri words.

Otabek sees it’s a phone call from Yuri and he picks up, setting his phone on speaker as he unlaces his skates.

“What’s up?” Yuri asks, and his voice is deeper than Otabek last remembers. They usually text thanks to their schedules. Before they had facetimed and video chatted but those gave way to phone calls before dropping off. Otabek hadn’t noticed at first and by the time he did, it didn’t really seem to matter. Yuri still kept in touch; only the medium had changed.

“I’ve finished up practice for the day,” Otabek says. His face is a disgusting mess of sweat but Yuri can’t tell over the phone. He’ll shower at home after he’s done talking with Yuri.

“Haven’t seen you in forever,” Yuri says.

“Hm, it’s been a while now,” Otabek says as he finishes changing into clean and dry clothes. He turns off the speaker and sets his phone between his cheek and shoulder.

Their paths have not crossed much in the last two years since Barcelona despite their best efforts. Otabek hadn’t made the Grand Prix Finals 2017 because he’d been sick during the his second qualifying tournament and he’d had to pull out. And Yuri hadn’t made last years.

They were both at the Rostelecom 2017 and he can still remember the look on Lilia Baranovskaya’s face when Yuri had hopped onto the back of his motorcycle with a vicious grin. They’d been at Worlds 2018 together but despite cheering each other on, they hadn’t managed to actually meet up. Probably because of that incident Lilia had kept a closer eye on him but neither of them would have changed anything; Yuri in particular had laughed his ass off.

Yuri hadn’t made it to the Grand Prix Final or Worlds in 2019 though and whenever they talk of late, Yuri has shied away from talking about his year. He’ll congratulate Otabek on his wins and insist he was robbed when he doesn’t make the podium. And he’ll talk about practice like nothing is wrong.

But Yuri has had a dismal season and if he doesn’t want to talk about it, Otabek understands. He hopes being there for Yuri is enough, and that he’s made it clear he’s willing to listen.

He blinks as he realizes that he truly hasn’t seen Yuri in a year. Though Otabek doesn’t check out any social media of his own volition Yuri links him to his instagram enough that the site pops up as a frequent and handy button. There are few pictures of Yuri on his instagram and the most recent ones tend to have only pieces of him.

Yuri is quiet for a moment then his words come out in a rush.

“Can I visit?”

Otabek blinks and stares at nothing. He stops in place but there aren’t enough people that it’s a problem for them to go around him. The light noise fades to nothing as he tries to focus and parse what he’s hearing.

“Can you visit?” Otabek repeats slowly.

The 2018-2019 season is over but that doesn’t mean Otabek is going to wax lazy. There’s plenty he needs to get done and much he can do so he can keep striving for gold. He’s got dozens of cds to listen through so he can start to narrow down pieces he’d like to skate for. There are emails he needs to answer for interviews and advertisements.

“Nevermind, it was stupid,” Yuri mutters.

“That’s not what I said,” Otabek says. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Yuri says nothing, a heavy awkward silence on his part as he regrets asking. Otabek can practically envision him fuming, face turning beet red.

“When were you thinking?” Otabek asks, pitching his voice a little louder so Yuri can hear him over the outside traffic as he leaves the rink and heads to the parking lot.

“Next week.” Yuri makes a strangled noise. “Or this Friday.”

“Okay,” Otabek says. That’ll should be enough time to clean. His place isn’t a disaster but for someone as prissy as Yuri, it’s probably a wreck. Yuri’s room is no doubt immaculate.

“That’s it? It’s fine?”

“Yeah,” Otabek says.

“Stupid,” Yuri mutters.

“You’re the one asking,” Otabek says, confused.

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll text you once I buy my ticket and know my landing time.”

Yuri hangs up and Otabek doesn’t stare at his phone but he does give a fond sigh. It’ll be good to see his friend again.

#

Otabek rents a car to pick Yuri up from the airport. He would go pick him up on his motorcycle but he has a feeling Yuri is going to come with no less than ten bags.

St Petersburg is three hours behind Almaty so Yuri might still be wide awake. Otabek lounges in the arrivals lounge and alternates between answering business emails and looking through Yuri’s instagram. He’s gone through it often this past week but sure enough, there are no full body pictures of Yuri, not like there had been when he’d been fifteen.

His plane is late but Otabek doesn’t worry. He gets a message an hour later and Otabek smiles a little; no doubt Yuri sent it as soon as he was allowed to have his phone connected. Otabek gets up and stretches a little; he’s had a dull but productive wait.

Yuri is easy to spot amongst the crowd, still decked out in animal prints, though luckily it’s only his sweater today. He’s grown tall and for a moment they’re eye to eye. Then Yuri ceases to slouch and stands up properly and Otabek has to look up at him slightly. It’s a far cry from the stoic ten year old boy that imprinted himself into Otabek’s mind or the prideful fifteen year old teenager who made the pact of friendship with him.

The lack of pictures makes sense. Yuri hasn’t wanted to document his inevitable growth.

Otabek holds out his hand for Yuri to shake and Yuri scowls but accepts. Then he pulls him into an quick embrace, and pulls away, slightly flushed.

“Really, Otabek?”

Otabek supposes that’s a suitable answer inside of Yuri’s head. Instead of trying to parse his meaning Otabek nods towards the baggage claim.

“Let’s get your stuff.”

“Fine,” Yuri says. Yuri actually only has three bags and Otabek doesn’t bother keeping quiet about it. “I don’t know how big your place is. I didn’t want to crowd it with my shit.”

“How long do you plan on staying?” Otabek asks. “Will this even be enough?”

Yuri shrugs and Otabek frowns at the answer. His look must be more pissed off than he meant because Yuri glances at him then gives him an apologetic shrug.

“I was hoping a week or two.” Yuri pauses. “Yakov wasn’t too happy with me. I can stay for a week, yeah?”

“Stay as long as you like,” Otabek says because he means it and it’s suicide to ask him to stay forever. Yuri belongs to Russia just as Otabek belongs to Kazakhstan.

“Whatever,” Yuri says. He sniffs a little when he sees the car but doesn’t say anything.

“What do you want to do first?” Otabek says as they load his bags into the trunk.

“I slept on the plane ride so I’m good. What do you usually do on Fridays?” Yuri asks.

“Today I planned on you,” Otabek says and he’s confused for a moment why Yuri splutters at that. Then he realizes how Yuri probably took it. Otabek ignores it. “I have the car for today but I’ll be returning it tomorrow. So we should use it while we have it. We can take a drive around but-”

“I’d rather do that on your motorcycle,” Yuri says as he climbs into the passenger’s seat.

“Me too,” Otabek says. “But your luggage wouldn’t have fit.”

“It's a vacation for me,” Yuri says by way of explanation. He pauses. “And this is packing light. Your place looks small.”

“My apartment is large enough for me,” Otabek says, amused somehow. It’s probably because he’s thrilled to be with Yuri again. He hadn’t realized how long it had been until he had seen him again. Yuri in person is so much more biting than over texts and blurry selfies.

“You could live in a box and say the same thing,” Yuri shoots at him. He’s lounging in the front seat, his phone in his hand though he’s not looking at it, instead watching Otabek for his reactions. Otabek glances at him during a red light and blinks when he realizes that Yuri is only pretending to lounge. There’s not enough room for his legs to properly spread out. And his grip on his phone is much tighter than would be expected.

“As long as I could stretch out enough I’m sure I could manage,” Otabek says in a too serious tone.

Yuri stares at him then snorts, turning his face away as his laughter only grows. He tapers off before he can get carried away.

“You fucking idiot,” Yuri says, and there’s nothing in his tone that is soft or fond, but Otabek can tell he’s complimenting him.

“We’ll drop your stuff off first,” Otabek says. “And then do you want to eat?”

“Not really. I want to see where you live first.”

“We’re going to my place-”

“I want to see where you skate,” Yuri says and he’s back to looking out the window. “You never take enough pictures. God forbid I try to ask for a video.”

“I’ve sent you videos before,” Otabek says, a little offended. Otabek had sent videos of himself skating though he’s only had one or two posted for when he’s done interviews and the reporters had asked. He hadn’t realized Yuri had wanted them so badly.

“I had to practically beg for one.”

Otabek smiles at that as he turns into his building and parks in one of the guest spots.

“You don’t beg.”

“I did say ‘practically’,” Yuri points out, turning in his seat to give him a shitty grin. Otabek shakes his head at him but he knows that will only encourage him further. It’s good to see Yuri joking around like this though. He’d been worried about him. An impromptu trip to Almaty probably hadn’t been in his coach’s plan. It’s off season so he has the time and ability but still. It’s not Yuri’s usual routine.

Yuri stretches as he gets out, long limbs high above his head. He gives a pleased nod at Otabek’s apartment complex but Otabek isn’t exactly sure what he’s so satisfied with.

“I thought we would come on your bike,” Yuri says as he grabs one of his suitcases. Otabek takes the other two and starts heading to his apartment.

“Not with your luggage too.”

“I figured we’d send it over. Or maybe just drag it behind. It’s got wheels,” Yuri says.

“I wouldn’t risk that with your skates in there,” Otabek says and Yuri doesn’t say anything. Otabek stops. “You brought your skates, right?”

“Yeah,” Yuri says softly. “They’re in here.”

“Which one?” Otabek asks as he looks down at the suitcase he’s rolling.

“One of them. Can’t remember which,” Yuri says airily. It's a lie because of course Yuri knows exactly where his skates are. But even this ridiculous charade is disconcerting because Yuri doesn't joke like this. Not about this.

“Yuri.”

“Don’t,” Yuri asks, in a voice that is too strained and soft. He doesn’t have bangs to hide behind anymore. His long hair is tied in a messy braid for the plane ride but he turns his face down so that Otabek can’t see the wounded look in his eyes.

Otabek doesn’t need to look him in the face to see it though. It’s written in every line of Yuri’s body, from the way he tries to curl himself in and attempts to make himself smaller. Otabek swallows his protests, which is just as well, because what would he even say? He hasn’t a clue.

Otabek unlocks his door and steps to the side so that Yuri can walk in first. His apartment is small, just enough room for his needs, because he actually spends very little time here. He watches Yuri gives that same satisfied nod as he looks around and Otabek can’t help himself this time.

“What is it?” he asks.

“It suits you,” Yuri says simply, as if that explains it. He dumps his suitcase right by the couch. “I’m taking over the living room for the week. Hope you didn’t need it.”

“I’m only sorry I don’t have a proper bed for you,” Otabek says as he sets the rest of the his luggage down.

“I’ll survive,” Yuri says. “Nobody tell Yakov or Victor I’m crashing on your couch though. They’ll never shut up about posture and improper positions if they know.”

Otabek smiles because the biggest danger there is Yuri complaining on SNS about any aches or pains. But he doesn’t say that out loud.

“I’m not the best cook but if you want to eat right now-”

“We can eat after,” Yuri says. “Let’s go.”

“Aren’t you going to bring your skates?” Otabek asks as Yuri heads to the door.

“I don’t want to dig anything out of my suitcases. I’m sick of looking at them,” Yuri says. “I’ve been fucking living out of these things. Let’s just GO.”

“The rental skates are awful,” Otabek says simply.

“They always are,” Yuri says with a snort. They pass by both Otabek’s rental and his bike when Yuri turns to him. “We’re walking?”

“I wouldn’t know where to park the car,” Otabek says because he usually walks or takes his bike.

Yuri snorts again. Then he starts complaining about some screaming kid on the plane ride and Otabek half listens, because he doesn’t think Yuri really cares. But he fills the silence and Otabek lets him speak until they reach the rink.

Yuri looks at it, opens his mouth, then closes it. It’s nothing compared to Russia’s rinks and he’s relieve that Yuri doesn’t say anything. Otabek waves at the rink workers as they pay for Yuri’s admission and skates. Yuri wrinkles his nose at the rental skates.

“I told you,” Otabek says because he’s a mature adult but that sort of thing is meaningless around Yuri Plisetsky.

“It’s fine. I want to watch you anyway,” Yuri says. He throws the skates down and leans on the rail.

“Okay,” Otabek says as he finishes lacing up. The rink is clearing out of people and will close soon, but the rink workers here know him and will let him skate for as long as they like.

He waits a moment so he can look at Yuri again. It’s clear that he hasn’t adjusted yet to his larger body but how much of that is purposeful and natural is up for debate. He still tries to curl in on himself as he used to but without that lithe frame, the effect is lost. Otabek thinks of a bear, trying to hide itself behind a thin tree, and the image is enough to let the smallest of smirks escape.

“What the hell are you laughing at?” Yuri demands.

Otabek says nothing and lets Yuri fume behind him as he steps onto the ice. Yuri is here. For now, for tonight, it’s enough for Otabek. The rest can come as it will.

#

They settle into something of a routine after the third day. Otabek spends most of his day training or working with his coach as they start to piece together new programs for the year. When he’s finished for the day, he makes his way home, where Yuri is usually stretching or just coming back from a jog.

Every other night they go out for a ride and Otabek delights in showing his country off to Yuri, who shows his appreciation by taking a dozen selfies with Otabek in each picture. He still doesn’t understand the appeal of SNS but he obligingly looks at the camera when Yuri commands.

On the off nights where they don’t go on his bike, they still spend it away from his apartment, relaxing in the quieter areas of the city. Yuri doesn’t bother pointing out that Otabek has a knack for finding the most secluded of places to hide away in though he does wonder out loud at how a man who is so reclusive ends up being a national hero.

“I didn’t come from Russia, you know,” Yuri says one day. “I was in Japan.”

“Hm?”

“I figured I’d stay with Victor and Yuuri for a while,” he says, focused on looking through each shop for food. He gives a little start. “I mean, the pig bastard and the old man.”

“Of course,” Otabek says. He does not allow himself a smile. Yuri is already looking at him in suspicion but Otabek has been able to understand Yuri’s affection for others for a while now. Katsuki and Victor are some of his favorite people even if it doesn’t seem like it at first.

"There's nothing more to eat past this way."

"Say something earlier, dammit," Yuri says and he turns around. It was a mistake to let Yuri pick where to eat dinner but neither of them had felt like cooking. Otabek is sure now that Yuri judges him harshly for being unable to make anything more complicated than instant ramen. Especially if he just came from Japan, where instagram tells him that Katsuki is well versed in the culinary arts and Yuri was no doubt staying at the inn with its warm and inviting menu. (It helps that Katsuki is married but he still sometimes wishes he didn’t know so much about Yuri’s history with Katsuki.)

But Yuri refuses to enter Otabek's kitchen, insisting it is too damn small, that Otabek doesn't even have any supplies and god, Altin how can you even live like this, you're a disaster.

Otabek doesn't point out that he's training for next season and he's not going to break his diet every night to join Yuri for meals. Yuri is far away from the critical eyes of his coaches but Otabek sees his everyday and he will notice in a heartbeat if he starts gaining weight.

"How was Japan, then?"

"Same as always," Yuri says. He glances at the shop advertising genuine sushi with a chuckle and a mutter about authenticity then looks back at Otabek. "I half-wanted to ask Victor to choreograph for me but it sounds like he's taking a student on this year. And there's no way I'm asking the katsudon to help me out."

“You didn’t find your inspiration in Hasetsu,” Otabek says as they finally wait in line for shashlyk and it’s half a question. Yuri hasn’t explained the reason behind his impromptu visit to Kazakhstan yet.

“Too hard to concentrate,” Yuri mutters, looking at the ground in disgust. “Those idiot lovebirds. It was sickening.”

Otabek nods in understanding. He figures Yuri is travelling for a reason but he doesn’t say anything else. Yuri will speak when he chooses to; Otabek would rather wait than try to force any answers out of him. He wants to know but he forces the questions down.

They take their piping hot grilled meat and find a fountain to sit at, waiting for their food to cool down before they inhale it. Yuri approves and goes to get another serving. He’s midway through eating his second when Otabek speaks.

“When do you have to go back?” Otabek asks. It’s the wrong question, too prying rather than casual as he had intended, which Otabek only realizes when Yuri shifts his body away from him and shuts down a little. His gut drops at Yuri’s silence.

“Eventually,” Yuri says, trying to be evasive. Otabek gives him a look which Yuri pointedly avoids. But patience will never be one of Yuri Plietsky’s virtues and after about eighty seconds (Otabek keeps count) he gives an aggravated sigh. “I’m not competing this year.”

Something in the background breaks, shatters into a thousand pieces, and Otabek wonders if it’s his heart. He swallows his dismay down because whatever he’s feeling is nothing compared to the weight Yuri must be shouldering. This wasn’t what he wanted to hear and he yearns to take the words back.

“Why?” He asks because that’s all he can manage to pull from his tight throat.

“Why do you think?” Yuri says with a disgusted and dismissive glance at himself. “I can’t fucking skate like I used to. I knew this day was coming and I’m still a pathetic piece of shit about it.”

Yuri is lost enough that he’d go to Japan in search of answers; lost enough that he’d come to Kazakhstan to be with a friend. Otabek can still remember the tight grip of panic and frustration from when he was a boy, travelling from Russia to US to Canada for training because as much as he loves his country, it couldn’t give him what he needed to get to the podium. The drive to succeed had outweighed his disillusions and fears but that only speaks to Otabek’s determination and love for skating.

For years morbid thoughts of failure and loneliness had been at Otabek’s side, enough that he could have almost counted them as friends. Otabek grits his teeth because he would never wish that existence on someone else and Yuri is the last person who should be feeling anything like doubt. He is brilliant, and astounding, and to see him so devoid of his usual fire is akin to seeing him as the living dead.

But Yuri still stands, still fights, and Otabek latches onto that knowledge, clenching his fists to keep his frustrations back.

“Stay here as long as you like,” Otabek says and his voice is softer and raspier than he’d like it to be but he’s holding back so much. Yuri chances a glance at him. “As long as you like, Yuri.”

“I heard you,” Yuri says and he’s torn between gratitude and fury that Otabek sees him so low. He clears his throat. “Thanks.”

Otabek nods and Yuri finishes eating in silence.

#

“Let me see your programs,” Yuri says the next day as they get ready for bed.

“Alright,” Otabek says. “Once I’m done stretching.”

Yuri makes a displeased noise from where he’s lounging on sofa with his phone and Otabek wonders if it's the same sound his cat makes. It probably is but then the question becomes who made it first. He’s not sure about that one. For a month Yuri sent him daily pictures of his cat up until Otabek uploaded a photo to his twitter. It wasn’t that he disliked cats but Yuri would send the messages en masse and it had clogged up his phone storage.

Otabek finishes and steps over Yuri’s mess so he can get his notebook. He flips to the most current page and returns. Yuri takes it and devours it, glancing at Otabek here and there. He finally sets it down and fixes Otabek with a contemplative stare.

“This suits you,” he says.

“I hope so,” Otabek says.

“That’s not what I meant, fucker, and you know it,” Yuri says. “Where’s the short program?”

“We haven’t decided on the short program yet,” Otabek says.

“Why not?”

“Nothing has been right yet,” Otabek says.

Yuri clicks his tongue at him but doesn’t say anything to that. “What’s your theme?” Otabek mulls for a moment and that’s enough for Yuri to sit up and give him an incredulous look. “You have a long program with no theme? No wonder you can’t figure out your short program.”

“I don’t have the words but I know the feeling,” Otabek says.

“Yeah, whatever,” Yuri says and he settles back into the coach. He absently kicks at a pile of his clothes that’s on the floor by the sofa and Otabek feels his eye twitch a little.

Otabek stays sitting on the floor, in the space he’d made by pushing all of Yuri’s stuff to the side, trying to find the words to explain what he’s trying to show with his skating. He’s never been chatty or eloquent and it’s so much easier to let his programs speak for themselves.

He wants to explain the power behind each quad, the expression of the footwork, the balance of the spins, but the whole program is always greater than the sum of its parts if he’s performed well. Otabek stares at his list and envisions it in his head. He knows he can win this time around, and it has nothing to do with the fact that Yuri won’t be competing. His coach had said he had come into his own and Otabek believes it, because even at Worlds, it felt so right to step onto the ice. He knows what he wants, how to get it, and he has the skills to make it to the top.

For the glory of the future, for the promise of it, because they still have tomorrow to look forward to even if right now, Yuri dreads his continuing growth. Otabek turns the idea over and finds himself smiling even as he still cannot phrase the words out loud. He cannot bring Yuri back to the ice for that is Yuri’s battle against himself. But he can help and inspire his best friend to regain what he has lost.

In the end, that’s what he can do, for he has his own fight to concentrate on. And Yuri would never forgive them both if Otabek was distracted from winning to focus on Yuri.

#

Yuri still won’t get on the ice with him. He’ll only go, with rented skates to top it off, when Otabek is busy somewhere else. Otabek finds out from the rink workers and he doesn’t say anything to Yuri about it. It’s partly because he doesn’t know how to ask him and also because he’s a little hurt that Yuri won’t skate with him. He knows it has nothing to do with him so he shoves his emotions down and waits for the day Yuri will rejoin him on the ice.

Otabek doesn’t ask this time around, just laces himself up and glides out. Yuri doesn’t need to be babied or pitied; he’ll figure himself out in no time and hopefully it won’t take him a whole season to do so. A gold medal is a gold medal but if the champion isn’t around to defend his titles, some of the thrill is lost.

Yuri belongs here.

Otabek has already had practice earlier and he knows his coach would yell at him for straining himself so he takes it easy. A short spin here, a few lazy figures, and mostly a lot of gliding around and enjoying himself.

He watches Yuri, who keeps an eye on him in return, though he’s also distracted by his phone just as often. Otabek skates to the other side of the arena, taking note of how many people are still around. They’re clearing out slowly and he waits until they’re all gone, the last rink worker of the day giving him a wave as she leaves for the night.

Otabek begins to skate forward, gathering speed; Yuri is still watching him, contemplative but far too melancholy for Otabek’s tastes. He wants to be back on the ice, Otabek can tell, but something in him won’t let him return. There are no words in Otabek’s vocabulary to help Yuri right now.

Otabek has an audience who can really appreciate it so he shoves his hammering heart down, turns to glide backwards into the flip, and pushes his toe pick into the ice to launch himself.

He's in the air, and he's made his four rotations, but then the ground is there again and the ice shocks him with how cold it is which is utterly idiotic considering he's ice skating. Otabek lies still, panting and unfocused.

There's a stupid grin on his face and he needs to look up to see Yuri's reaction, because of course he's going to mock him for the fall but Otabek is getting closer to nailing the quadruple lutz. One day soon he'll be able to put it on his roster and show the world.

It's Yuri's hand on his arm, flipping him over to inspect him, that brings him back to the present. He can feel the cold and wet soaking into his clothes but right now Yuri is stronger than the sensations. And he doesn't think Yuri will let him move away any time soon.

"What the fuck, Otabek?! That was such a fucking shitty jump. What the hell did you break?"

"Nothing," he says and Yuri's fingers are digging into his arm, they have been this whole time but the pressure is oddly reassuring instead of painful.

"Bullshit," Yuri says and he's poking and prodding at him but there's only bruises. He's been failing and falling for years. Even Yuri, teen genius and prodigy, knows how manipulate his body so he can try to avoid the dreaded fall that would shatter all his dreams.

Otabek says nothing but moves to get up, surprised when Yuri snarls and shoves him back down. His body tries to slide against the ice but Yuri doesn’t let that happen. Yuri is going to add a bruise to his arm at this rate.

"It's cold," he says, a little dumb.

"Yeah? You fucker. You don't get to pull a jump like that. I saw you fall and break your leg. I saw you done. I saw it and you didn't because you were too busy trying to be a bastard. So you can sit your ass on that ice until I'm sure you're fine because I still think you're lying about it."

"You don't get to say that to me," Otabek says and he doesn’t stop himself even though he knows it’s a bad idea, "when I have watched you push yourself to your limits time and time again. How many times have I thought this was your last performance because you don't know how to slow down? When you're gasping for air and clutching at your heart because you have no concept of tomorrow except your fear of it-"

"Shut up," Yuri says but it's confused this time.

Otabek pushes Yuri off and hauls himself up, as he's been doing since he first took to the ice. There’s a rage in him that he doesn’t often feel but Yuri is so good at riling up in ways he’s never expected. Otabek doesn’t hate Yuri, but right now, it’s a close enough feeling.

He takes a deep breath because even he can tell that Yuri was only worried about him. Otabek looks down at him to see Yuri staring up at him, still unsure.

“I thought you would be-” Then he stops because he’s not sure the word he’s looking for. It’s not in Kazakh, Russian, or English. It isn’t pride or acknowledgment that he wants. His pride comes from himself, for he knows best of all what he’s sacrificed and worked for what he’s earned. He has medals that are physical proof of what he’s won. “I thought you could be-”

“Be what?” Yuri snarls.

Otabek stares at him, through him, beyond him because this isn’t the first time his words have failed him. It’s all the more galling that this time, his skating has failed to express his intention as well, for usually that’s what gets his message across when his speech cannot.

Yuri is furious, burning in his rage and he’s surprised the ice doesn’t melt beneath him. Otabek meets his gaze.

“I thought you’d understand,” he says instead and it’s as close as he can get.

Yuri’s expression is blank even though his eyes are hard and determined. He’s thinking over what Otabek said but before he can respond Otabek looks at his feet.

“You ran out here,” Otabek says and he doesn’t need to say anything more about Yuri’s lack of skates. It’s his turn to grab Yuri’s arm but he makes a point of keeping his touch gentle.

“That fall looked bad,” Yuri says, a faint blush on his face though he turns away so his hair falls into his eyes and hides most of it.

“Hold onto me,” Otabek says as he stands up and Yuri inhales sharply but obeys for once in his goddamn life.

They don’t speak as Otabek takes his skates off and gently sets them in his bag. Yuri doesn’t turn away from him but his mouth is set in a hard line and none of the emotions on his face are friendly. It isn’t until they’re outside the rink, heading towards Otabek’s motorcycle, that Otabek speaks.

“That’s not the first time I’ve fallen, you know,” Otabek says.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“I know,” Yuri snarls. He takes a step back and breathes deeply. “I was worried, okay? Is that allowed?”

“It’s fine,” Otabek says, and he’s not really sure what he’s referring to. But it seems to set Yuri at ease.

They’re still quiet as they turn in for the night, the both of them forgoing dinner. Otabek is drifting off in bed, not quite awake but nowhere near sleep when he hears Yuri at his door.

“Are you asleep?” Yuri asks softly.

Otabek sits up a little in answer. There’s enough moonlight that Otabek can see the strained expression on Yuri’s face, the vulnerability that he usually tries to hide cracking in the soft embrace of night. He plays with the ends of his long sleeves rather than look at Otabek.

After a few moments he tries to crawl into Otabek’s bed, but he fails, instead dropping himself onto the bed. He’s not a small wisp of a boy anymore, but he still curls himself up. Yuri doesn’t say anything and Otabek hopes they don’t stay like this because it will make for an uncomfortable night.

Otabek waits for Yuri to speak. The jolt Yuri had made when he’d landed on his bed had finished waking him up but he’s not entirely sure what’s going on. It’s easier to wait for Yuri to sort out his words or more probably, he’ll spew something out because deliberation and patience are more foreign to Yuri than this entire city.

“Sometimes I hate you,” Yuri whispers hoarsely, like it hurts him to admit it.

Otabek carefully does not move even though he can feel Yuri so close. Yuri has shorts on and Otabek can feel the heat from his skin; their legs are centimeters apart from tangling together. If he so much as twitches they’ll touch.

“Why?”

Yuri thinks for a few minutes. The sounds of his breaths hitching as he begins to speak but then aborts the attempts are the only noises. He shifts to curl up a little tighter.

“You know who you are. And it shows when you skate. I wish I was just jealous but right now, all I can do is hate everything. It’s disgusting. I thought I- this shouldn’t be so hard. I knew my body would change and I’d have to adapt.” He takes a deep breath. “I thought I could handle it.”

Otabek rolls over even though he knows he’ll only see Yuri’s back. Yuri tenses, and Otabek watches and waits till he relaxes a little more.

He wants to remind Yuri that it’s painful to reinvent, to kill their old selves. It doesn’t hurt any less the more they do it. But he knows that just as well, if not more so, than Otabek does. Yuri would rip himself apart, shatter his bones, peel every bit of himself to pieces if it meant winning.

“You’re only human in the end, Yuri,” Otabek says instead because he can’t say he’s fragile. Part of it is true for Yuri is skin, meat, and bones but there is steel in his soul. The world will bow to him again one day; Otabek knows it in his heart of hearts. But Yuri has forgotten.

Yuri flips himself around and his lips are tightly clamped together but his fury is clear in his eyes.

“What does that mean,” Yuri says in a too measured voice.

“You can be broken,” Otabek murmurs.

“Are you calling me broken? What the hell are you trying to say? Do you think-?”

“I think you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. I think you’ll only grow more. This isn’t your end, Yuri. You’ve fallen but not from grace and everyone will see that when you return. Because you will and it will be truly magnificent. If anyone can come back from this it’s Yuri Pliestsky.”

Yuri stares at him for a moment then turns away to try to hide the way his eyes water. He tries to brush them discretely but they’re right next to one another.

“You...how can you just say shit like that?”

“Because it’s true,” Otabek says, blinking.

Yuri huffs a small laugh.

“I guess that’s one of the reasons why I came to Kazakhstan. You’re honest. I-I like that about you-your skating.”

Otabek smiles a little. It’s beyond thrilling that Yuri would come to Almaty for him and his skating, to try to regain his inspiration by looking to Otabek. Yuri shifts around and Otabek nearly reaches out to tuck his hair behind his ears. But he keeps his hands to himself.

“Hey, Otabek?” Yuri’s tongue wets his lips. “What would you do if I kissed you right now?”

“Don’t distract,” Otabek says, his focus on Yuri’s mouth.

“I’m not.”

Otabek shifts so he can slip on arm under Yuri’s body, embracing him.

“I don’t want it,” Otabek says. Yuri startles in his arms. “Not like this. Not when you’re crying and- not like this. Please.”

“Okay,” Yuri murmurs, wrapping his arms around Otabek. “I get it.”

Yuri moves around so he’s comfortable and gives a content sigh. His legs are curled up so he can stay on the bed and Otabek idly wonders if he should get a bigger size.

“I didn’t cry, by the way.”

Otabek smiles into Yuri’s hair.

“You did.”

“Ugh.”

Yuri makes no move to leave, burrowing further into Otabek’s chest instead, and Otabek murmurs a ‘good night’ into his head, pressing a kiss. It’s so right when Yuri responds back with an equally soft ‘night’ and it takes no time for Otabek to fall into a comfortable sleep.

#

“Let’s go skating, asshole,” Yuri says the next morning.

Otabek blinks at him, frowns, then blinks some more. Yuri is dressed and standing beside him, poking at his shoulder with his phone.

“Why are you awake?” Otabek asks.

“I always wake up before you. I just usually go back to sleep,” Yuri says with a disdainful scoff. “Now get up. You have today off and Google says that there’s an outdoor rink around here. You’re taking me there. So let’s go.”

Otabek groans and sits up, rubbing at his eyes. Only Yuri could have an emotional, touching night and bounce back like this. Yuri taps his foot at him like the prima ballerina he used to embody and Otabek is torn between wringing his neck and flinging him onto the bed to get that kiss.

“Fine, fine,” Otabek says because an annoying Yuri is preferable to a depressed one. But Otabek is up early on a Saturday and so he’s allowed to be put out.

He hurries up and then makes his way to the living room. Otabek does not say anything about the mess Yuri has accumulated. Or perhaps it would be better to state that Yuri is a whirlwind and Otabek should have expected this when he let a human shaped disaster waltz into his home. He’s really being unkind but Yuri has trash all over his clean floor. There’s only so much a man can take.

The bag Yuri is attempt to extract is at the very bottom of the pile, in the back corner, but Yuri hauls it out without noticing how everything on top of it falls. As he had suspected, Yuri’s skates are inside, though Otabek winces a little at how haphazardly they were stored. Yuri catches his look and shrugs a little, though he looks torn between embarrassed and ashamed.

“I almost left them,” Yuri says. “About a dozen times.”

“Ah.” Otabek says nothing more because he doesn’t want to. He can’t imagine himself so low that he’d willingly leave his skates like that.

Yuri attempts to rattle off the directions but Otabek ignores him. He knows well where they’re going. Otabek straps their bags onto his bike and they take off; it’s not much different from their usual night drives but today they are both going to skate. And that’s makes everything so much better.

The rink supposedly boasts being the highest in the world but Otabek doesn’t quite understand that appeal. It’s outdoors and large, which is what draws him in, though the weekend crowds mean he’s going to get recognized. Before he can begin to explain this, Yuri leaps in action the moment his bike is still, and he drags them to pay and lace up.

“Come on,” Yuri shouts as he launches himself towards the ice, completely oblivious to this all, and he nearly crashes with a giggling pair of school children.

It only takes a few minutes before he hears his name being called, and he looks around to see a young man coming up to him with stars in his eyes. Otabek glances at Yuri, who is watching him with an expectant expression; Yuri wants to see the Hero of Kazakhstan in action.

“Can you skate for us?” someone asks. The question was on everyone’s mind and Otabek nods, having already braced himself for it.

“My phone might be too quiet for everyone to hear the music,” Otabek starts when someone offers up a portable speaker.

At some point Yuri vanishes but when Otabek looks around, he finds him nearby in the stands, close enough to watch but presumably far away enough that no one will recognize him. Otabek locks eyes with him at the beginning and finds his gaze again as he ends.

He does the first thirty seconds of his upcoming free skate, since it’s the freshest program in his mind, and he doesn’t think his coach will mind too much. It’s petered off as of late but he can still hear him trying to get him to self promote more; this is probably exactly the sort of promotion he was talking about.

Yuri is grinning at him, far too satisfied and pleased about something. But as the crowd around him dissipates, the last of the autographs done, Yuri comes back to his side.

“What is it?” Otabek asks.

“You deserve it,” Yuri says simply but at Otabek’s confused expressions he gestures to the people who are still giving him adoring looks. “The attention and recognition, I mean. It’s all well earned.”

“Oh,” Otabek says, not sure what to say to that. Luckily Yuri beckons for him to follow and skates off.

They don’t eat until late in the afternoon, when they’re too sloppy and hungry to deny it any longer. But they’re back on the ice as soon as they’re done.

“This is nice,” Yuri says as they meet up and skate side by side.

“Too many people around,” Otabek says. He’s not getting so many looks anymore but anytime he does a jump, he’s aware people stop to watch him.

“You’re just mad you were roped into socializing for once in your goddamn life,” Yuri says with an evil grin. Otabek wonders at how many photos and videos he took then pushes the thought out of his mind.

“I came to skate with you,” Otabek says and Yuri turns a delightful shade of red that has nothing to do with his exhaustion or the cold.

“Sh-shut up,” Yuri says, as if it’s news to him how much Otabek adores him. “You want to skate? Let’s skate. I’ll race you to the other side of the rink.”

Otabek doesn’t say anything about cheating as Yuri takes off without another word and still doesn’t when Yuri proclaims himself the winner as he reaches the other side first. It’s much more fun to take his hand and congratulate him, because as expected, he blushes again and tears his hand away, muttering something about ridiculous people and their stupidity. He says it in the same tone that he uses to complain about Victor and Katsuki, so Otabek knows it’s perfectly welcome.

They takes breaks intermittently throughout the afternoon though once it starts getting dark and the rink starts clearing out, they end up side by side on the bleachers. Yuri ends up resting his head on Otabek’s shoulder and he doesn’t protest when Otabek finds his hand to clasp it. They’ve finally taken their skates off and have them packed away but neither of them are willing to go back just yet. It’s cold but pleasantly so and they’re both still flushed from their last bout of skating; it’s much nicer to sit for a while like this with each other.

“I’m going to go back to Russia,” Yuri whispers.

“Hm,” Otabek says in agreement. He never expected Yuri to offer to stay; he’s surprised Yuri has been here three weeks already. And he wouldn’t accept it anyway. Yuri will skate until he cannot physically stand it any longer and Otabek is the same. Otabek runs the backs of his fingers across Yuri’s hand, feeling a thrill as it causes Yuri to shiver. “I will see you on the ice again.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Yuri asks.

“We have priorities,” Otabek says, tilting his head a little. They have a finite time on the ice and in the spotlight. He’s not asking for that from Yuri; he’s asking for the time after.

“Priorities…” Yuri repeats and he barks a laugh. “You just want to stand in the middle while I’m off to your side.”

“Not ‘just’, but of course I do,” Otabek says. He wants the gold, he’ll always yearn for it, and he’s a vaguely annoyed that Yuri is implying he doesn’t want the same when that’s all his gaze can focus on during a competition. “I want you to find that something that drives you once more. If I can help, I’ll gladly use this body to do so, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let you take first place.”

Yuri flushes and doesn’t break his look.

“I’ll find it. I promise you. And then I’ll crush you.”

“You can try,” Otabek says and he moves back to he can get up. He holds out his hand so that Yuri can take it to stand. “I look forward to your attempts and your return.”

Yuri takes his hand but once he’s up, he uses his grip to pull Otabek flush to him so they can kiss. It’s good that Yuri’s hair is still long because it makes it easy for Otabek to tangle his fingers in his hair. He can push back and give as good as he gets.

“We still have to drive back,” Otabek says, forcing himself to break away.

“Yeah,” Yuri says with a sigh. He leans his forehead on Otabek’s shoulder and sighs again. “Maybe this wasn’t my best idea.”

“Factor in the drive next time?” Otabek suggests and Yuri laughs, dark and low but so full of promise that Otabek has to remind himself to breathe.

“Oh, I’ll remember that for next time,” Yuri promises. “How fast can your bike go?”

“The speed limit,” Otabek says. “You can wait.”

“I don’t think I can,” Yuri says.

“I’m not getting a ticket.”

Yuri gives a theatrical groan as he climbs on and latches onto Otabek.

“Then hurry up. Because I am dying of thirst here.”

Otabek doesn’t say anything as Yuri presses himself as close to Otabek as possible.

“You are going to be the death of me,” Otabek says.

“Hurry up, hurry up,” Yuri sing songs and Otabek allows himself a groan. But it’s all for show and they both know it, because Yuri doesn’t move away and instead puts his chin on Otabek’s shoulder. “Come Otabek, let’s go home.”

“As you command,” Otabek says and he carefully does not react to what Yuri said. Yuri will go back to Russia and Otabek will stay in his beloved Kazakhstan for now. But perhaps Yuri knows exactly what he said what better way to assure Otabek of his love than to proclaim the man as the place where his heart rests despite the physical distance that will remain between them for the years to come?

Otabek revs the engine as he goes faster and Yuri laughs, loud enough for Otabek to hear over his bike and the wind in their ears.

#

“Hey, cut my hair for me, will you?” Yuri says as he presses a pair of scissors and a trimmer into Otabek’s lap.

Otabek closes his book and sets it aside though he doesn’t touch the impromptu salon. He raises an eyebrow at Yuri who gives him a beautiful and calculated smile; he’s known Yuri for too long to even remotely be convinced by that look.

“What makes you think I can cut hair?” Otabek asks in a flat tone.

“It’s your stuff, dumbass. Of course you can,” Yuri says with a scoff.

Otabek gives a long suffering sigh and Yuri grins in victory. Yuri pulls up a chair so he can sit in the kitchen and he’s humming a song, his knee bouncing a little. He returns to Russia tomorrow and while Otabek is glad that Yuri has regained some spirit, he’s also more than dismayed that his stay has been so short.

“How do you want it done?” Otabek asks, a slight hesitation between the last two words. He can’t ask for more.

“Make it like yours,” Yuri says.

“No,” Otabek says and Yuri laughs in delight.

“I want that half shaved thing. Like right around here.” Yuri makes a line across his head and Otabek obligingly begins to part his hair. He takes the clip Yuri hands him and pins the rest of his hair up out of the way. Otabek takes a moment to play with the long strands he’s about to chop off but Yuri makes an irritated noise so he gets the scissors and starts cutting.

“Your fans are going to love this,” Otabek says.

“Of course, I’m hot; I can pull off anything,” Yuri says, taking a picture of the first strands of hair on the floor. Otabek is sure it will make for a striking picture and he kind of hates that he recognizes this fact. It’s all Yuri’s fault.

“Not everything,” Otabek says, remembering some of Yuri’s more outrageous outfits. He laughs at Yuri’s squawk of outrage. But with the scissors in Otabek’s hand, Yuri doesn’t whip his head around to give Otabek the glare he’s no doubt wasting on the cabinets.

“You don’t understand style, Otabek,” Yuri says. He starts googling images and holds one up for Otabek to see. “I’d dress you in stuff like this. You’re always too boring. You need more colors. I get you don’t really do accessories but-”

“Those are orange pants,” Otabek says. “With a pink shirt? Wait, that’s not even a full shirt, it shows off his stomach. And what are those shoes?”

“No style,” Yuri says with a sigh.

Otabek shrugs and sets the scissors aside. They don’t talk over the buzz of the trimmer and Otabek lets himself enjoy this, the way he gently moves Yuri’s head around so he can reach and that Yuri lets him manipulate him like this. There is no Ice Tiger of Russia, no senior debut Grand Prix Final Gold Medalist, only Yuri, trusting in him.

Otabek brushes his head and leans down to kiss the freshly shaved skin. A few stray hairs still end up on his lips but he ignores them as Yuri gives a content sigh.

“I’m going to regret letting you leave,” Otabek says.

“That makes you sound like a stalker,” Yuri says. He raises his arms to wrap them around Otabek’s neck, bringing their lips together for an awkward but eager kiss. Yuri breaks away to spit hairs out and his disgusted face makes Otabek snort.

“It’s true though. I want to be by your side for your rebirth,” Otabek says and Yuri flushes.

“Too dramatic,” he murmurs and Otabek nearly laughs at that. Yuri gives him a brief mock glare but it fades right away. “You’re the first to see me. Can’t you be content with that?”

“I’ll live, I suppose,” Otabek says. He can’t be content with watching Yuri from afar, not when he can have him in his arms like this.

“Like you said, we’ll have time later,” Yuri says.

“You sound so wise,” Otabek says with a teasing smile.

“You might be the only person who has said that to me in the history of ever.” Yuri wears a sharp grin and Otabek wants to kiss that stupid face. While he has the chance he does and it isn’t until Yuri whines, for air or out of pleasure he doesn’t know, that he pulls away. “Y-you’re an asshole.”

“Only for you,” Otabek says. He grabs the broom and starts sweeping around Yuri, gathering up the shorn hair to toss. “I should sell this instead of putting it in the trash. I know of a few girls who would pay good money.”

Yuri rolls his eyes as he gets up, taking the chair and brushing it off.

“Shut up, Altin.”

“I’m serious.”

“Yeah?” Yuri says before he drops the chair and tackles Otabek, knocking the broom out of his hand and pinning him against the counter.

Otabek looks up at Yuri and before Yuri can kiss him, Otabek reaches up to cup his face. Yuri closes his eyes and sinks into Otabek’s hands. He kisses his forehead then presses his own against his.

“I’ll miss you,” Otabek says.

“You are such a sappy shit,” Yuri murmurs.

Otabek laughs because he can see and feel Yuri’s flushed face. But instead of pointing out the obvious, he tilts his head up so they can kiss. They still have one another and they’ll have all the time after too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are appreciated and loved.


End file.
